Uni

I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go to uni. I really don’t. The thought of moving away to somewhere that I don’t know anyone and anything could happen scares me. There would be all that debt and I would still fail the course. I want to join the army. I’d have rules to follow and there’s safety and I wouldn’t go to war as I would just be a musician and they don’t. But stupid wrists and joints mean I might not be able to. Stupid me. Why get my hopes up. When I told mum about the problem with getting in because of my joints she couldn’t hide her happiness. She tried, but it was so obvious. So I’d make her happy until I fail there. Dad would be ‘happy whatever I do’ and all that rubbish that parents come out with. ARHH! Why do I have to be so stupid. I had a chance with the army. You don’t have to be that clever to join. I just had to pass the audition. There was a little chance I could do it. You have to be clever to go to uni. I might just scrape to get through to get in, but I wont be about to cope with the work load and the pressure. I’m so scared about it. Unbelievably scared.

I’m now sitting here looking at uni prospectuses and websites and most of the open days have already happened. I should have looked earlier, but I didn’t want to. I was putting it off. The next open day for one I want to look at is in two weeks and Nat wants to book it off work too. I don’t know if we’d both be able to. I just don’t know what to do.